


Rumble

by LePipi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Motorcycles, Nerd Castiel, Secret Identity, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePipi/pseuds/LePipi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas have been best friends since kindergarten, and now they're together in college. College might not be as fun as presumed, but it leads to revelations of dark streets and guarded hearts. And a motorcycle riding badass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumble

He first saw him on Friday the 13th.

"Come on, Cas! All you do is freakin' study and I'm tired okay! I'm freakin tired, of-of sitting here with you, when everyone else is out there having fun! We said we'd go to college together, not tape our asses to each other!" –Dean screamed at his best friend, losing control after a whole hour of arguing over a stupid party.

"I don't mind a party, Dean. I mind that particular party. You know that Gordon will be there, and last time you saw him I had to sew in your gut! I'm saying this for your own good!-"

"No! No-no-no-no! You do not get to pull that 'for your own good' crap, Castiel! I haven't seen you once go to a party, unless you count those 'study sessions' that last hours long in the freakin' library!" –Dean's voice rose above to rival the steady coldness of Castiel's words.

His roommate gave him a steel gaze that reeked of defiance, but he kept his lips shut.

"Fine. Go to your party, and hope you get a steel beam stuck in that stubborn head of yours."

"I will." –And with those last words, and not a glance behind to Castiel, Dean picked up his leather jacket and stormed out, missing the look of sadness in blue eyes.

-/-

For just a moment, in between the dizziness of alcohol and the lust filled urge to bed the nearest frat boy, a thought that he should have listened to Castiel raced through his mind, and like a subliminal message, the next moment it was gone.

No, no, no. Dean shook his head in a drunken stupor as he made his way through the overcrowded house.

He was having a damn good time. The beer was flowing, the music was booming, the guys were cute, and no Gordon was to be seen!

Cheers to freakin' that...

He finally laid himself on the dark cold of the parking lot, not really feeling like walking. His breath heaved and even though he wore just a plain old AC/DC t-shirt topped off with his favorite jacket and ratty jeans, he felt like he was melting. Everything was just too hot, his clothes felt drenched with sweat, and the air felt heavy with warmth, declining him a breath of fresh air.

He panted and breathed heavily loving the feeling of the cold cement on his back, splaying his arms and legs wider to the touch.

And where the fuck was everyone that cheered him on while he was chugging on that keg? Did his fame suddenly drop? Why wasn't anyone concerned about him?

And where the fuck was Cas? At least, he would care. He would know what to do. He'd lay beside him on the parking lot...

Yeah, Cas was awesome.

And that star, right above him, what did Cas call it? Something about early and breakfast... Morning star, that's it! And yeah, Cas, when they were little, he said something about the star, something like it's always the brightest, always shows the way and whatnot... And, he'd said that it looked like Cas' eyes...

Pretty eyes that guy had...

"Hey, Winchester!" –And who the fuck was ruining his little trippy episode? Voice sounds familiar... Like that moment before sleep and you hear the faint flutter of a mosquito, but you ignore it in hope that it was just your imagination and you will just go calmly the fuck to sleep...

"Talkin' to you redneck!" –Ooooh, burn, never heard that one before, no sire, not when he was a proud Kansas boy with the cowboy boots and everything in the first week or so of college. He'd thought it would be funny at the time, even though Cas warned him and... That guy was always right.

"Whadja wana?" –He slurred limblessly, feeling too comfortable to move. God, he really shouldn't have drank that much. The 5 minute spotlight really wasn't worth it.

"Ahahaha, he's fucking drunk, that trailer trash!" –And another set of guffaws from multiple voices accompanied it. Yeah, another original one.

"Ah never lived in a traleeeeer..." –Dean furrowed his brows in thought, trying to make the words and his throat work together.

"Hey, hey, cowboy, remember me?" –The voice was suddenly right in freakin' front of him, it was so fucking loud, why couldn't people just chill for a fucking second... And fuck, yeah, that face? It was suddenly clear as daylight.

Freakin' Gordon and his smarmy face.

"Fuck you wan'?" –Was the best Dean could come up with.

"I want you out of campus! And you wanna know how I'll do that? I'm gonna beat your face in, you fag!"- Dean could have used some time to fully grasp the meaning behind Gordon's words if it weren't for the swift kick to his ribs.

Yeah, he got the meaning.

He coughed in pain as the kick and swift feet came knocking down on him, and really was he seeing double or were there a bunch of other guys with him? And what did he ever do to the guy? He just tried hitting on him once, drunk out of his freakin' mind. And Gordon was even nice, until Dean said he was gay. Ya know, a simple 'I don't go that way' would have been sufficient enough! But, noooo, the guy had to go and make a big ass scene, how he was not, definitely not, one hundred percent, girl-fucking-raw-meat-eating-bear-killing-macho-as-fuck straight!

Dean learned his boundaries, but this guy obviously didn't know when to stop.

And the feet were soon replaced by fists, and instead of kicks it was outright stomping. And through the haze of blood and breathless lungs, only one coherent thought passed his mind.

'Cas will be super pissed when he sees me. If he ever does.'

Suddenly, the morning star seemed to be burning even brighter than before. And instead of up in the sky, it had moved beside Dean on the floor. And it was growing bigger, and bigger, and freakin' bigger, and it started making a noise, like a wheels turning kind of noise.

And Dean felt himself smile through the mind numbing pain, his white teeth glistened with blood.

This was it then. The angel Cas' said was the star came for him. And he'd die being fag-bashed.

His only regret was not seeing Cas. Tell him a couple of things... Some words left unsaid...

"Fuck is this guy doing..."

"Is he..."

"He's coming towards us..."

"Can't be..."

"He is!"

"Fuck!"

"Run!"

Rufus and friends ran off, living his body boneless and hurt, and just before they made their escape, the star ran right in front of him.

Which turned out to be a motorcycle.

The last thing he remembers is the guys cussing and running away stumbling, the motorcycle guy flashing his light in their direction giving his bike a threatening rumble, and then...

Then a white helmet was bent down his face, and Dean managed a crooked smile.

"Angel..."

 

-/-

 

"Cas, I'm so sorry..."

"Shut up"

"Cas, please, I know dammit, I know-"

"I said shut up."

"But I know, I know I'm stupid and you're smart, and I should listen to you, and dammit I'm gonna listen and I'm..."

"Dean?"

"Dean are you-can you hear me?"

"Fuck."

-/-

There's something... Ok, fuck, that something's pain. Sharp pain, all over, fuckin' Christ... Reality is still working at least. And there's a smell. That's... Coffee? Coffee's good. And then there's a headache, fuck. Ok, ok, memory's coming back.

Party, then Gordon, asshole extraordinaire, and then motorcycle knight, and suddenly Cas.

Dean opened his eyes with difficulty, having stapled his eyelids together in sleep. Moving felt like the world's toughest job at the moment. Still, he made the effort to at least familiarize himself with his body's state. God, even moving a hand felt difficult. Ok, so there were bandages around his ribs. And pushing at the spot felt like a nightmare. Didn't feel like he'd broke anything, though. Bruises, bruises all over. Chest, arms, hips, legs, fuckin' neck was all blue, and some were growing green. Face felt rotten, he could hardly move his jaw without cracking. His mouth tasted like blood. Touching a finger over his lips he found it was split. A tooth felt wobbly. Good thing it wasn't a front tooth, he'd never live that down.

Final summation: he was a wreck.

But being a wreck was no excuse to laze around in bend, even though Cas covered him up all nice and snug, even gave him some of his own blankets, cushier ones, expensive ones that didn't scratch while you slept. Bless that man.

Oh, yeah, he should probably get on that blessing himself. Thank him and apologize and ask for some food.

With a load groan, more like a scream, he straightened up and set his legs on the side. Even through all the pain, he noticed Cas clothed him in one of his own pajamas. The long-sleeved ones with rockets and stars. God he hated those. Although, he had to smile. This was Cas' own way of taking revenge, the douche he was. A side glance from his nest showed a glass of water and a pill. Praised be the Castiel! He took both with urgency, popping the pill and swallowing down the glass gratefully. He should probably write a whole new Bible about Cas, and get everybody to worship him, and build statues of him. He'd totally make a fortune of selling the same pajamas he was wearing then. 'And one of his mercies was giving Dean, a drunk, his pajamas, and thy pajamas were of rockets and spaceships and oh, the wonders those pajamas were.' That was actually a good idea, so when Cas jabbed at him, or called him stupid he'd just go "Dude, I wrote you a Bible!" and he'd had to shut up. He snickered to himself and his still somewhat-drunk humor and made the tough decision to get up.

Bad decision! Wobbly feet, legs achin', back was murdering. He could do this though, he had to.

Opening the bedroom door, he caught Cas sitting on their little table, nursing a coffee, while another one waited untouched across him. He didn't raise his gaze from where he stared at –nothing, and wasn't that just mean? Still, the wounded ego had nothing on the guilt he felt, and so, he reached a hand to tap him on the shoulder before making his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

Glancing at the mirror proved it was good Cas hadn't looked at him.

He looked worse than he felt and wasn't that saying something? Purple-nurple was bound to be his next nickname, regardless of the drink or his nipples. Which were quite perky and left unscratched, thank God. 'Fight' was written all over his face, no falling down the stairs nor anything could cover this up. 'Lost Fight', that is. Washing his teeth was pure hell, that wobbly tooth kept hurting and turning and fuck! With a sigh and a prayer that his Adonis-like features could be restored he hopped into the shower, and once again, thank Cas for thinking of turning on the boiler.

Taking the bandages off was a party, though. Skin was all scratched off and dark and gooey. All though it didn't look nice, scabs were at least a sign he was healing.

The stream of hot water was God sent. He sighed with his whole body, knees almost dropping him to the floor. Everything still hurt, but the smell of clean soap, the green one that smelled of pine, the one Cas used, that he sometimes stole, made him feel at home, relaxed. Safe. Getting around his sides with soap was a no-no, though. Scared some wounds were still open, he let himself just enjoy the moment and not think. But, he did though, he had a lot of things he had to think about. He still didn't know how he got home, still had to face Cas, still had to face himself and what happened with Gordon, and then... Then there was Angel. His very own knight, and he had to smile at that. Weird thing was, he felt warm all over at the thought, warm in ways the water couldn't get make him warm. Hot was the word. He didn't have his face, nor his voice, nor anything about the guy, but wasn't he something? Rushing in just at the right moment, saving him and keeping off the bad guys. Storybook shit, right there.

But, reality was calling, and Cas' was pissed, and the hot water was running out, so he quickly ( as quick as he could manage) turned the shower off, grabbed a towel and exited the bathroom.

Plan was to get back to the bedroom, change into clean clothes, man up and face Cas, but just as he was walking past the table, towel gripped tight at his hip, Cas called out to him.

"Stop!"- Startled from the grim silence that held since he woke up he almost tripped right then and there.

"What?"- He stared back at Castiel, who wasn't looking at him, but at his chest, eyes moving rapidly from one part to another of his body, sometimes holding longer, sometimes not paying mind. He felt his skin flush uncomfortably, although he was still red from the shower. He had a lot of years ( more like a whole life) to get used to that gaze, but dammit, could the guy be unnerving.

"Yeah, Cas?"-He jutted his chin out as if to challenge him, which was stupid, and he knew it was just going to get him another fight, but still. He wasn't up for getting examined, he knew he looked awful.

Castiel just gave him a cold, cold, Antarctica cold look before speaking:

"Your side is still bleeding."- Giving a rapid look to his ribs he saw he was right. Dammit, he hadn't noticed.

"Don't put on a shirt."- He hated that voice Cas sometimes took. All business and flat tones. Made him feel like a child, worst, it made him feel guilty.

With a nod and a heavy gulp he turned to the door, flung it shut and threw himself down on the bed. Rash decision it was, and with a yelp he straightened up again. Feeling around his back, he felt more scabs. Christ...

He took his time with the clothing, really not up for the talk that was bound to happen.

Still, he remembered his cojones and remembered that Cas is a friend and took to the inevitable.

He sat down on his chair, shirtless as promised in his comfy sleeping pants, and looked across him to see the table littered with previously nonexistent bottles and tubes and bandages and whatnot. And a very calm Castiel which was never a good sign, not in these situations. And hell, he was smoking. Fuck, this is where he knew he'd messed up bad. Apparently, leaving Cas for just 2 years to sort out his brother leaving for Stanford and his drunken father led the guy to smoking. He didn't though, not if Dean could help it. He'd only light up whenever something was really bad, and Dean knew to leave him alone when those moments came.

"Thanks for the coffee."-He said weakly, anything to just stir up the tense atmosphere. If it were night, crickets would be singing by now.

"Come here, Dean."- He pulled out his disappointed-father voice again, and Dean felt like smashing something, just to get some human reaction. He'd be fine with anger too, hell, he'd probably let himself get beat all over again. He just couldn't handle seeing Cas looking helpless.

He obliged, pulling his chair closer, till he was beside him.

"Turn around."-He turned his back to him, swallowing past the lump in his throat that was full of words he knew Castiel couldn't take.

The press of cold fingers against his skin gave him a shiver, and he knew Castiel felt it too by the way he retreated. Dean swallowed again, embarrassed, and ducked his head lower to give him the 'go ahead'. Cas picked up the cue, and his nimble fingers traced the torn bundles of skin, over his left shoulder blade and just below his neck.

Castiel retreated without a comment and next were the sounds of bottle caps being unscrewed and soft sounds of fabric being unwrapped.

God, he knew this was bad, but it wasn't like it was his fault. He didn't ask to be freakin' beat up!

A gasp escaped him at the sudden sensation of cold against his back.

"What's that?"-He asked breathlessly.

"Ointment. It will speed up the healing. Chase of any infection."-As he spoke Dean felt fingers gently spreading the gel over the burning spots, and it already felt better in some way. He kept quiet as Castiel finished with the ointment, waiting for new directions. He ducked his back lower, yelping in surprise as Castiel spread his whole hands over his back. He cast a questioning look over his shoulder, as Cas' fingers started kneading through the muscles.

"It's for back pain. Helps with bruises."- He left it at that, and Dean didn't respond, only concentrated on the hands at work. Massages were a line they hadn't crossed yet. Sure, sometimes they slept together, and when they were younger they knew to be too comfortable with each other, but this was something that never occurred to either of them. There was never really a need for this, and now... Now Dean got the shit beat out of him, and Cas was doing a great job at helping him. Fuck, he'd be groaning by now, if he wasn't scared.

"Smells nice..."- He had to say something, had to know if Cas was ok so far.

"Peppermint. Yes."-So, Cas wasn't giving up the stick up his ass. It was better than being put-off. He didn't want to force the man into something he wasn't comfortable with.

He nodded along, grateful for the moment, when Castiel felt for his lower back. He tensed up instinctively as the hands pushed against the small of his back. It was his... His place, that always made him shiver and arch, his spot, and Cas was... It wasn't the time, nor the place, last the person to be having those feelings, and thank God Cas sensed it.

The fingers left immediately, and Dean rolled his back in some needles façade of 'nope that didn't happen'.

"Turn."-His voice was dead again. At least, they were cool on that part.

Still, he played along, turning in his chair.

"Arms up."- Raisins his arms he saw that his left side was bleeding weakly, but that the other was almost fine, just bruises.

Castiel took a moment to examine the injury and then turned to take a bottle with some strong smell, and it hit him before he could react.

"Fuck, Cas, warn a guy!" –The antiseptic burned his flesh, but he made the effort to stay still.

"This is nothing compared to what happened to you last night."-Anger was good, better than nothing, really.

"Yeah..."-Dean ground the word through clenched teeth.

Cas' finally removed the cloth, and Dean took a moment to sigh in relief. Next, he turned with some other kind of cream, applied it evenly before wrapping his body in gauze.

The process took a while, and made Dean feel more than a little uneasy.

"Hey, Cas..."

"Yes, Dean?"-He still wouldn't spare him a glance, instead concentrated on the gauze.

"You know that I'm sorry, right?"-He had to start somewhere...

"And what am I supposed to do with your 'sorry'?"-As he said it, he pulled on the gauze a little too tight, making Dean groan loudly.

"Can I take your 'sorry' to the store and buy some milk? Can I use your 'sorry' in my job application? Can I erase what I saw last night with your 'sorry', Dean?"-Castiel was spitting the words rapidly, making Dean cringe with every syllable.

"I can't do more than 'sorry', Cas. It's not my fault Gordon hates me."-He tried keeping his voice level, though he too felt a fight rising in him.

Castiel quickly wrapped the bandages, in a haste which was unlike him.

"What do you want from me, Dean? You want me to tell you 'it's ok'? You want me to stroke your ego some more?"-Castiel finally looked at him, and it would have been better if he didn't. Pure anger gleamed in his blue eyes.

"Why are you angry at me?"-It was Dean's turn to be aggressive.

"Because you were drunk! Because I told you not to go out! Because you never listen! Because I'm tired of seeing you like this! The world won't accommodate you, Dean, and I know that's rough, but it's reality!"-Castiel stressed the words with his hands shaking in anger. This was worse than Dean thought, and it was gonna get more so.

"Yeah? Well, at least I do something with myself, Cas! You're all talk, but you haven't lived life at all! All you do is preach, and you don't think that maybe I'm tired of that?"-Dean full on yelled, even went so far as to get into Cas' face, as if he could ever raise a hand on him.

"If that's the way you see making an ass out of yourself, as just 'living life', because of course, you're just that much of 'free spirit', than by all means, go ahead. I'm not stopping you, just don't think that I'll be here to pick up your pieces. Again."-He was at the cold-flat voice again, and this was just the last straw. Making fun of him, insulting him, blaming him was all he was willing to take.

"Fuck you, Cas."- He left it at that, threw down the chair, slammed the bedroom door, got a shirt and went where he wouldn't be near that asshole.

-/-

It was evident that Dean's life was one big, bad capital D, Decision. Or maybe just God's way of telling a joke.

Outside was cold. His leather jacket did nothing to sooth the freezing wind, and he hadn't the mind to get some money and go to a coffeehouse.

So, like the big baby he was, he found a bench a block away and sat down, sulking.

He didn't even have his phone to play Sudoku or something.

And that's what he did for a whole three hours, sat, froze and sulked. He was that determined to make Cas feel guilty. Winchester smarts at work, right there.

But in those three hours he had time to think, and boy, was thinking hard.

Cas took care of him, took real care of him. Did more than anyone would expect a friend to do. Clothed him, cleaned him, helped him, made him freakin' coffee... Which he didn't get to drink.

And he was right, and only wanted to help, because he got it. Cas was an all around quiet guy, didn't really express his emotions and thoughts. Never really did. So, it was logical that keeping it all inside was bound to burst out. And Dean may have been right about what he said too, but he was wrong to say it the way he did. Wasn't even necessary to ever say it. Cas took enough shit about it when they were little, he didn't need it now, the least from him. That was Cas' way, that was just Cas. He preferred staying inside and studying to crazy nights out.

And if he was wild, if he did let loose, he wouldn't be Cas...

God, he couldn't even imagine him out with some random people. He couldn't put him in his own place. Sure, he went out to the library with some people, but he knew them. There was Anna , who was marvelous in bed, but she and Cas had some sort of falling out. Come to think of it, Anna was actually out of the picture for Cas. For him both. So Anna's off. There's Gabriel... Who is a douche, and one time Cas had him over Dean got in such a big fight with him ( what was it over? something about eating the cookies he bought for Cas, or whatever...) that he never came back. Actually, Cas had stopped mentioning him all together now. So, guess Gabriel wasn't a friend either. And then Crowley and Lucifer... Now he was sure Cas stopped hanging out with those fuck-faces. Some posh, smooth-talking fuckers that liked to trick people. Robbed Cas out of half his rent. Turned out that Raphael and Uriel were in on it too. Some stupid scheme about needing the money for books, really expensive ones. Actually turning out they've asked half of campus for 'money for books'. And Cas, being the softie, actually gave them the money. Dean had to bust his back at the garage working to cover up the loss. But, he kept quiet about it, knew Cas was feeling too embarrassed and used. He hadn't needed the added pressure from his roommate. So not those two... Balthazar then! Fuck, but Balthazar disappeared right? At least, that's what Cas had said.

So in all actuality, Dean had no fuckin' clue who Cas hung out with anymore. Fuck, he was that self-involved. Self-centered. Selfish. Every word Cas had the vocabulary to throw at him.

This is where he knew he had to go back and make things right. Also, his ears were freezing. And Cas' Christmas present were earmuffs. And he never appreciated anything.

-/-

He was still unsure when he opened the door into their apartment. Maybe Cas would still be angry. Maybe he'd go full on Hulk on him and he'd just have to take it.

But the kitchen/tv-room was empty and knocking on the bathroom proved to be empty too. Toeing off his shoes he went to knock on their bedroom door.

"Cas, you in there?"- If Cas had left, he was in big trouble. And, nope, no response. Bad just got worse.

Cracking open the door he sighed in relief, a goofy smile to boot. He found Cas snuggled up in his bed, a puff of dark hair peaking under the dark green sheets. A closer look showed Cas' white earbuds and the quiet buzz of music.

His heart ached in weird ways. This was Cas' safe place, his happy place. Whenever he felt bad or tired all he needed was an hour alone in the bed with his music. He just never thought he'd be the reason for this ritual.

Cautiously he took a seat on the bed where Cas' knees met him.

This should have roused Cas up, but he seemed to have gone deeper than that.

With a smile he flicker a finger over Cas' peaking ear, successfully dropping the earbud.

Castiel immediately jolted, casting bleary eyes around him and settling on Dean. He tried for a disarming smile, and ended up looking pretty meek.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Dean took a moment in embarrassment to brush a hand over his knee before going for it.

"I was mean. And you were right. Again."

"I was mean too."-Cas quickly pitched in. Dean smiled wider and continued.

"I'm not finished. I get that 'sorry' doesn't mean much, so thanks for taking me in last night, thanks for patching me up, thanks for dressing me, thanks for putting up with me, and thanks for looking out for me."- He looked up to Cas, feeling suddenly self-conscious about what he said. He meant it, but he wasn't sure if maybe he could make it worse in some way.

"It was unfair of me to attack you like that, especially after you went through. I don't like seeing you like that, Dean. It may be selfish of me, but I personally can't handle seeing you like that. And you're welcome."- Cas gave his small smile that set Dean's heart at ease, and he knew they were alright again.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll try and keep out of trouble. Listen to you some more and all that."-Dean gave a chuckle to prove he was ok.

"And you were right about me-"

"No, no, I'm stopping you right there. I was a douche, am a douche, and we're gonna end up in couples therapy if we don't stop talking right now."-Castiel laughed softly at Dean's joke, and it was so good to hear his friend laughing again.

"Now move over. I froze my ass out there."-As he said it, he dropped himself down on the other side of the small bed, Cas' back to his face.

"Didn't you have any money?"-Castiel ever the mother hen.

"Nope."

"So what did you do for three hours?"

"You were counting?" –If Cas' back had eyes they would have been glaring.

"I was aware of the amount of time you were gone."-Cas' diplomatic voice was such a stupid defense.

"So, you were counting?" –He might have been pushing it.

"Yes, Dean, I was counting. What did you do for three hours, out in the cold, with no money, with wounds all over your body, which may have been opened depending on what you were doing for said three hours?"-Yep, the diplomat was in full swing.

"I sat on a bench."-Now that he actually heard what he was doing he realized just how stupid he may have been.

"You sat on a bench? For three hours?"

"Yep."

"Never underestimate a Winchesters determination."-Dean laughed freely at Cas' dry humor.

"You know it."

**Author's Note:**

> It's been pointed out that this resembles Grease 2! It wasn't my intention, but yeah, I can ride with that :D Hopefully I shall be updating soon, and do forgive me most sincerely for mistakes made, for English is not my first language :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are GREAT motivation!


End file.
